Secrets, Scars and Shotguns.
Dangerous Driving
Sam went to sleep after having lectured Dean further on the importants of taking his pills. Dean simply rolled his eyes and gave sly, cocky remarks.
Yes. Sammy had a point but wasn't it his choice not Sam's? Sam had asked Dean to promise him that he wouldn't go back but what if he was already half way there, half way back to where he had come so far from ; half way back to hell? Not a bunch of pills was going to bring him back, because that sure as hell wasn't the thing that brought him back before. Yeah, they helped but not a great deal. What brought him back was more than that; it was more painful than that. It was seeing what he had done to his father that really brought him back. The medication was just there for effect.
Dean was left, listening to his music and trying, reaching helplessly for his freedom and escape once again.
But Sam had taken that away from him. After his little outburst, reality was just hanging in the air like a bad smell. And all Dean could do was hate his brother. It had been so long since he had hated his brother. Seven years in fact, seven years since he had actually wanted to scream at his brother and throw a hissy fit any girl would be proud of. No freedom, no escape. It was just him and the music. But it still gave him room, time to think, time to collect his thoughts.
He didn't like his thoughts.
His thoughts scared him, ripped him apart inside. The things he saw in his head, the things he heard. It scared the shit out of him and when he was a wake it was all he could do not to cry. But when he slept there was nothing he could do to stop himself crying, screaming. Thus he was exposed. And he didn't like to sleep, for this ugly fact, but he had to sleep. Everybody had to sleep.
Sam shifted on the seat. Suddenly, watching his brother; Dean started to notice just how tired he really was. It had been almost a week after all since he had last slept and it's then, that they say, you start to go mad.
"Sam?" he whisperd. Silence." Sam?"
Sam jumped. Almost hitting his head on the roof of the car. He angrily turned to face Dean.
"Dude? What the fuck?" he snapped.
"I'm tired after all. I'm not alright to drive. Can you?" Dean asked.
"Dean you said you were fine. Now I'm half asleep. Unless you want killed then you will continue to drive and allow me to get on with my sleep. Okay?"
Sam rested his head on the window and fell back to sleep. Dean sighed. Smart Sam. Real smart.
He kept driving even though his eyes were getting heavy, arguing with his eyelids to stay open. He could feel himself drifting more and more into sleep.
"You're mine Winchester!"
Out of nowhere something hit the car, Dean jumped and immediately swerved. The car went off the road, they where in a ditch. Dean stared ahead, shocked, confused and scared.
What had the voice said? 'You're mine Winchester!'?
Sam sat up beside him.
"What the holy shit?" he screeched," Dean!"
"Something hit the car." Dean whispered, his hands where shaking, his knuckles white.
Sighting, brave super brother Sam climbed out of the car, slamming the door violently. He wondered around to the other side and examined the door. There was no proof that something had hit the car, no dent, no scratch nothing.
"Dean. Nothing has hit this car."
Dean was still staring ahead.
"Dean!"
"What? W-w-what?"
"Nothing it the car. There's no dent or scratch. Nothing!"
"Sammy! Something hit this freaking car! I'm telling you."
Sam put his palm to his forehead. Nothing hit the god-damn car. His brother was insane, that or more drained than he's letting on.
"Come on Dean move over. I'm driving."
Dean shifted over to the passenger side.
"Thanks Sammy I owe you one."
Smiling, Dean placed his head on the window and drifted into a deep sleep.
Yes. Sammy had a point but wasn't it his choice not Sam's? Sam had asked Dean to promise him that he wouldn't go back but what if he was already half way there, half way back to where he had come so far from ; half way back to hell? Not a bunch of pills was going to bring him back, because that sure as hell wasn't the thing that brought him back before. Yeah, they helped but not a great deal. What brought him back was more than that; it was more painful than that. It was seeing what he had done to his father that really brought him back. The medication was just there for effect.
Dean was left, listening to his music and trying, reaching helplessly for his freedom and escape once again.
But Sam had taken that away from him. After his little outburst, reality was just hanging in the air like a bad smell. And all Dean could do was hate his brother. It had been so long since he had hated his brother. Seven years in fact, seven years since he had actually wanted to scream at his brother and throw a hissy fit any girl would be proud of. No freedom, no escape. It was just him and the music. But it still gave him room, time to think, time to collect his thoughts.
He didn't like his thoughts.
His thoughts scared him, ripped him apart inside. The things he saw in his head, the things he heard. It scared the shit out of him and when he was a wake it was all he could do not to cry. But when he slept there was nothing he could do to stop himself crying, screaming. Thus he was exposed. And he didn't like to sleep, for this ugly fact, but he had to sleep. Everybody had to sleep.
Sam shifted on the seat. Suddenly, watching his brother; Dean started to notice just how tired he really was. It had been almost a week after all since he had last slept and it's then, that they say, you start to go mad.
"Sam?" he whisperd. Silence." Sam?"
Sam jumped. Almost hitting his head on the roof of the car. He angrily turned to face Dean.
"Dude? What the fuck?" he snapped.
"I'm tired after all. I'm not alright to drive. Can you?" Dean asked.
"Dean you said you were fine. Now I'm half asleep. Unless you want killed then you will continue to drive and allow me to get on with my sleep. Okay?"
Sam rested his head on the window and fell back to sleep. Dean sighed. Smart Sam. Real smart.
He kept driving even though his eyes were getting heavy, arguing with his eyelids to stay open. He could feel himself drifting more and more into sleep.
"You're mine Winchester!"
Out of nowhere something hit the car, Dean jumped and immediately swerved. The car went off the road, they where in a ditch. Dean stared ahead, shocked, confused and scared.
What had the voice said? 'You're mine Winchester!'?
Sam sat up beside him.
"What the holy shit?" he screeched," Dean!"
"Something hit the car." Dean whispered, his hands where shaking, his knuckles white.
Sighting, brave super brother Sam climbed out of the car, slamming the door violently. He wondered around to the other side and examined the door. There was no proof that something had hit the car, no dent, no scratch nothing.
"Dean. Nothing has hit this car."
Dean was still staring ahead.
"Dean!"
"What? W-w-what?"
"Nothing it the car. There's no dent or scratch. Nothing!"
"Sammy! Something hit this freaking car! I'm telling you."
Sam put his palm to his forehead. Nothing hit the god-damn car. His brother was insane, that or more drained than he's letting on.
"Come on Dean move over. I'm driving."
Dean shifted over to the passenger side.
"Thanks Sammy I owe you one."
Smiling, Dean placed his head on the window and drifted into a deep sleep.